Springfield daily republic. [volume] (Springfield, O. [Ohio]) 1887-1888, 1887-09-13
OUT OF A CLEAR SKY.

For several years two entirely different
IDEAS have been associated in my mind in
what was TO me for long time mysteri-
Jus way.
l read somewhere in q book Of Mexican
travels Z startling account Of a happy
wedding party assembled in an adobe
building which was struck by an enormous
aerolite that killed everybody and buried
the building out of sight in a twinkling.
In one of Walt Whitman's poems there
is u line, Where the lilacs last in the
ioOryard bloomed" have never read OF
heard that line but instantly comes up in
my mind the picture of that awful event
in Mexico. Invariably the perfume Of one
suggests the dire and sulphurous cruelty
Of the other There are no lilacs in MeXi-
60. Nor is there any mention Of flowers
at all in the naive and terrible story Of
natures catastrophe.
Will you tell me why n fieeting scent Of
spring flowers brought with it picture Of
pampas grass, a sound Of mandolin, a half
Spanish song, bride in black lace and
yellow skirts, a group Of happy, swarthy
faces and a thunderbolt that buried them
all forever and instantly in indistinguish-
able ruin?
tell you-that is why have written this
paper.
In the late spring Of 1884 there was liv-
ing at Dobbs' Ferry. on the Hudson. in q
very pretty little half Swiss cottage that
glowed warm with red wood shingles
through the lilac bl shes, my friend Bin
ninger | used to 20 and see him quite
often, for he had the ideal home of the
romancer. His WAS the only perfect re-
aliZation of love in q cottage. unmarried
by any of the disturbing elements OF life,
that had ever seen.
| He had married = beautiful girl, with
whom he had fallen in love. He had won
her in spite Of wealthy rivals and the op-
position Of wealthy parents. The whole
courtship was a kind Of beautiful infatua-
ton. He had good position in a com
mercial house in Beaver street, and on a
moderate income they had furnished this
little home and settled down into that
holy selfishness which benignantly re-
CARDS the rest of the universe Is subsidiary
and contributive.
And the rest Of the universe appeared
to have aided and abetted the dream.
| Everything bloomed and glowed and sung
for them uneventfully. They We're SO
radiant with love themselves that they
made the world shine. And don't think
anybody Of either sex could have watched
them billing and cooling up there over the
blue Hudson like pair Of robins without
feeling n happy kind Of envy, mixed with
n protest against the DEGREES Of fate for
having concentrated al human happiness
in one pair.
Lou, as he called her, was literally q
radiant woman. Her pale beauty was Of
that beamy order that emits An sureole.
You never could quite divest yourself Of
the notion that . lambert, psychic light
fell on things when she looked at them.
She was, l suppose, that perfect equipoise
Of gentleness and sweetness and tender
ness that the poets have found no other
name for than woman.
Mrs. Sherman, who used to drive up
there from the Clock Tower house, called
her an '.alabaster lamp" stood there
on the graveled path one afternoon ad-
miring the bush lilacs thai hung drOwsy
in their own perfume in great masses
round the porch, and she came and put
her bright face through them to see who
1t was. She Lit the scene in an instant.
After all, flowers and sunshine itself
We're only frames for that sweet face.
remember the shade Of disappointment
that crossed it. She thought Binninger
had come
Such women pierce every man with tiny
darts made Of his own unworthiness.
But the aerolite, Yes. Well. listen.
Do you recall the 10Th Of May, lS3-,
Let me remind you Of two things that Oc-
Cured in New York. In the first place,
We had one Of those unreasonable hot
spells that sometimes visit US for two or
three days in the spring People fell down
in the streets, struck by the sun as with
q bludgeon. Then there was a kind Of
incipient riot up town, caused by q strike
Of railroad men.
1t was Friday morning. The shadows
of the lilacs were dancing across the white
cloth on the breakfast table in Binnin-
gers cottage. A bobOlink was pouring
out bravura air eXultingly on the rail
of the porch You could hear the stroke
of steamers paddles on the river below.
Everything at this early hour was dewy
and cool and musical.
Binninger sat there at the table drink |
ing his coffee and trying to look at the
morning paper at the same time. Lou sat
opposite him at the same table, dreamily
watching him.
In a high chair, rather prematurely, |
was the curly headed Binninger, trying to |
hit the dancing shadows with spoon.
Jack" said Mrs Binninger, with a
pause. And Jack threw down the paper,
and with his coffee cup in his hand re
garded her with concentrated admiration |
and tenderness.
I'm going to the city to-day"
''Ha, har' he cried. "'Pon my word. |
believe you are afraid to tell me what |
you want
mo, no." she replied quickly, 81 don'i
want anything; it's not that"
"Isn't it,''
mo, no. must 60 down to the dress.
makers, and I've some shopping to do
But can't wait and come back with you
l must hurry home by 2 O'Clock. You'll
not mind, will yous''
"Yes, shall mind, he said 'To know
you are coming, and into that dingy oil
office at o'clock, makes the whole day
light. Must you go:'
II really must. l want my dress fOs
Sunday. and there's a lot of other things"
well, " he said, getting up and looking
at his watch, ''by Jove, I've only got
seven minutes to catch that train. Good
by, Bobblesr' And he kissed the curly
headed boy, put his arms round his wife,
Sc zed his hat, stood there at the door u
m 1ment and came back and kissed her
again.
Jack" said she, ''if you don't think
ought 10 go"-
My dear, If You must go, don't be
foolish and tire yourself out running all
over town, and don't, on your life, fail to
be here when l come back. Good by. I've
got 10 run for 1t. There's the whistler
He got as far as the little gate Some
hing seemed 10 call him back II was an
ndistinct impulse that made him turn.
The bobolink was calling on the rail He
heard Bobbles' voice in the breakfast
'oom. The bright morning was full Of
voices. But he did not un-
ierstand them, and a moment later he
was running down the hill To the train
with a happy heart. L
Could he have interpreted the voices l
.hink this is what they had said: L
Don't let her go. Don't let her 60!
Don't let her g,r'
Seven hours in the counting room. A q.
ong desert of calculation broken nv a |